


Carrot

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Moresomes, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dwarves pay Bard in hrm-hrm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carrot

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Dwarves really don't want to pay to Bard in gold, so they (horny after imprisonment) propose to fuck him properly instead. Bard, who didn't have sex for a long time, agrees. if it is Bard/two dwarves(or the hobbit) or it becomes an orgy everyone/everyone is up to the filler +1000 if Bilbo is very eager to participate +googol for double penetration” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/10731.html?thread=21951211#t21951211).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He tries to face the boat, planted firmly on a barrel, but it’s too difficult to fully turn away from the smattering of dwarves up the hill. While Bard thinks, struggles, pretends he can resist, they eye him with varying degrees of _hunger_ , a few of them fidgeting as nervously as he feels. The halfling’s whole face is red, and it looks like he might faint at any moment—but the leader of them—Thorin—stares right at Bard, and it makes Bard shiver with _want_.

It isn’t that he’s opposed to taking men, which he assumes most of them are. And it isn’t that he’s opposed to exchanging sex for services—he’s had a hard life and got over that prejudice long ago. It’s that they’re _dwarves_ , a whole other _species_ , and what they ask is something he should give out of the kindness of his heart, even though it’ll cause him trouble. They’ve already offered something in exchange. Some of them are attractive—the golden haired one in particular is beautiful, if short, and not so wild-looking as the others. His hair looks smooth, soft, like it would feel good for Bard to run his fingers through, and the smallish one covered in knitwear is cute enough, and there’s a light in the eyes of the one with the hat that makes Bard curious. Most of all, he’s just _horny_. It’s been too long. And he’s had worse. Realistically, he knows he won’t have all of them, and maybe they’ll give him just the least _Dwarvish_ ones, though he suspects he’ll get either Thorin or the tall, bald one, who, strangely, looks most like a Man. He stands almost tall enough, or maybe it’s just his presence making him so. 

Out the corner of his eye, he can see them whispering amongst themselves, and then the one with hair like a star comes up behind the one with the hat. He wraps one arm around the other dwarf’s waist and grinds into him, the hatted one grinning through his thick, dark mustache. Thorin glances at them once, but doesn’t make them stop. Their halfling fidgets again, looking mortified. 

Finally, Bard lets out a sigh, giving up. They want it, clearly, and there’s no use pretending he doesn’t—a cock’s a cock, at the end of the day, although he’s not even sure that’s how they want to use him yet. It doesn’t really matter. He’s already hard from thinking of it, from watching them, and from the way the blond smiles hopefully at him as he comes wandering up the path. The star-haired dwarf shoves his hands right into the trousers of the one with the hat—those two are probably off the table, already starting as they are. It’s Thorin Bard comes up to. Bard licks his lips, deciding hoarsely, “Alright.”

Thorin grins, and his fierce gaze turns it into something of a smirk. Even though Bard’s looking down at him, _power_ radiates off him in waves. His hand shoots up too fast for Bard to stop, and suddenly thick, strong fingers are in his hair, tugging Bard down. Bard gasps, his knees giving in. He hits the hard ground, and Thorin can now look down at him, hissing, “Good. We can’t waste any more time.” Bard opens his mouth, though he’s not sure yet what he’ll say, and it doesn’t matter. Thorin grabs his face with both hands and gives him a bruising kiss, tongue slipping right into his mouth. 

From there, Bard doesn’t stand any chance. A warmth comes up behind him, flattening into his body—the tall, bald one, he thinks—and large fingers rake down his sides, feeling his body through his tattered coat. He lifts his hands to splay against Thorin’s chest while Thorin ravages his mouth, taking him in rapid, rabid breaths, teeth occasionally digging into his lips or clashing into his, tongue always filling him, lapping and twisting around his own. It’s wet, messy, and mind-consuming, and then the collar of his jacket’s being ripped aside, and another mouth closes around his shoulder. They kiss him in tandem, crushing tighter into him, and when Thorin lets his mouth go for half a second, he _moans_. Thorin growls over him, “Open him, Dwalin.”

It must be the dwarf’s name. Dwalin grunts some unintelligible agreement, one hand rising to shove Bard’s hair up, exposing more of his neck to bite and lick. Thorin returns to kissing him before he has any chance to speak. Dwalin’s other hand runs down Bard’s spine, Thorin’s dipping everywhere, squeezing and clawing. Bard should’ve known dwarves would fuck like beasts. Or maybe he just happened to get their hardest, or maybe they’re just as starved as him. Their hands start to push aside his coat, then slip into his trousers, one on each side of him. Thorin cups between his legs, fisting his cock, and Dwalin grabs a chunk of his ass, digging blunt nails into it. While Thorin holds Bard’s cock prisoner, Dwalin relocates both hands to pushing down Bard’s trousers and kneading his cheeks, idle fingers running through the crease between. A liquid joins shortly after, though Bard can’t see from where—another dwarf helping out, perhaps? It doesn’t matter. His eyes keep closing. Thorin keeps kissing him. All of his noises brought out by Dwalin’s hands are lost in Thorin’s mouth, even when one round digit taps at his hole, pressing in to try and bid it open. 

As soon as Dwalin’s finger pops inside, Bard’s screaming. It’s thick and unforgiving, wet but shoving forward, and there’s a little bit of pain that Thorin tries to kiss away. As Bard breaks away, needing air, Thorin chuckles darkly, “I knew you’d say yes.”

Over Thorin’s shoulder, Bard can see the other dwarves, rubbing themselves through their clothes or touching one another. The golden-haired one’s just staring at Bard, Bard staring back—with a huge finger plundering his hole, the dwarf looks all the prettier—perhaps he’d be softer than his friends; he looks younger—perhaps he could stay for a romp in Bard’s bed when they reach the other side of the lake. The two thin braids on either side of the dwarf’s pink lips look like handles to be tugged, and Bard licks his lips, breathing hard. Thorin glances back, following his gaze, and growls, “Fíli, come here.”

The dwarf—Fíli—hurries forward. Thorin’s eyes go wide, but Thorin tells him, “You won’t get a chance to fuck him until we’re on the other side and you’ve given us weapons.” Bard looks at him—weapons weren’t part of the deal—but then he looks back at Fíli, and he finds himself nodding. It’ll be worth it. Fíli smiles and sinks down to his knees, rising up on them to kiss Bard’s mouth, and Bard opens for it, groaning anew at the pleasant taste of Fíli’s mouth. He smells vaguely like alcohol. The scratch of his beard is less than Thorin’s. He kisses less harshly, but still hot, still eager. It makes it bearable for Bard to be scissored open on two fingers, then three. It gets to the point where he doesn’t even know who’s touching him, just that his asshole is open far, far wider than it’s meant to, and many probing digits are rubbing at it, sloshing more lubrication inside him. He tries to concentrate on Fíli’s mouth instead, one hand snaking into Fíli’s hair—just as soft as he’d imagined. Thorin purrs in Bard’s ear, “My sister-son has a nice mouth, doesn’t he? He has a sweeter ass, I promise you, but you’ll have to help us first...”

It takes Bard a second to sort things out—Thorin is Fíli’s uncle. He’d thought Fíli was younger, but still a dwarf, probably still far older than him. It doesn’t matter. A few of the fingers withdraw, and a spongy tip follows, and suddenly Bard’s being stuffed full of cock. He shrieks against Fíli, but the dwarf doesn’t slow—one of them is shoving their fat cock into him, still alongside fingers, and it stings but not too much, the pleasure drowning it out—Thorin keeps massaging his cock, and he’s hard as a rock in Thorin’s skilled hand. He’s filled deeper than he thought any dwarf could go, and then he’s being held open, a second cock pressing at him. The fingers finally leave, replaced instantly, and the two dicks war for space inside him. Fíli starts stroking him, kissing him all over his face when he’s too breathless to kiss back. Thorin and Dwalin push balls deep, and Fíli pets his face and murmurs, “You’re so handsome... I’ll love riding you, I know I will... maybe my uncle will let me suck you on your boat, if you’re good to him...” Bard’s cries twist with _pleasure_ , all his blood rushing down.

Behind them, the dwarf with the hat is on all fours, taking the tri-star one’s cock. The smallest one is on his knees, sucking one of the older ones, and the one that looks like a younger Thorin is standing nearby, his hand in his trousers. The halfling’s trembling, his hands over his mouth. Dwalin and Thorin rock inside him a bit, and he realizes belatedly that the liquid’s coming from _them_ ; they’re leaking copiously, precum like rivers, another difference in their species. But a good one. It eases the way. They’re sloshing all around him, jostling each other, and when they slip out, it’s at the same time, only to shove back in together. Thorin’s hand leaves Bard’s shaft, only for Fíli’s to replace it, and Thorin grabs onto his hips, Dwalin wrapped around his middle. The two of them fuck him in tandem, hard and fast, just as mercilessly as they kissed. Bard’s dizzy in no time, head thinning—he worries he’ll pass out before he comes; the pain of his stretched asshole holds him just back from the edge. It doesn’t take long for him to scream himself hoarse. 

He tries to steal some of Fíli’s spit. Fíli’s eager to share, kissing him so perfectly. Bard loses track of how long they fuck him for, and then Thorin interrupts the kissing, muttering, “Your mouth looks dry, bowman. Maybe you want a treat?”

The only thing Bard could fathom right now is more cocks; he’s not above that innuendo. He can barely rasp, “I don’t think I could fit a dwarf cock in my mouth.” A few of them laugh; all the dicks he can see are impossibly fat.

But Thorin laughs, “Not a dwarf. I trust you’ve never tasted hobbit seed? I’m not ashamed to tell you it’s better than any dwarf cum we could offer you—it just might be the most delicious thing our world has to offer.” Bard doesn’t know about that, but he’s too senseless at the moment to think about it and judge it false or true. He rolls his head towards the halfling, who’s blushing furiously. Thorin calls him, “Bilbo, come here.” Bilbo shuffles his feet, but obeys as quickly as Fíli did. He comes right up to Bard’s other side, and he’s now closed in by four walls of men. Thorin has to grab Bilbo to tug him that little bit closer. Then Thorin shoves his hand right into Bilbo’s crotch, while Bilbo squeaks in surprise. Thorin purrs, “Share some of that tasty juice of yours, burglar.”

Bilbo doesn’t protest. He keeps his hands over his mouth, trying to stifle a moan, and he looks at Thorin with such devotion that it’s staggering. But Bard is the one to get a faceful of his cock—small and cute, pink-brown and a little curved, with honey curls near the base. Bard doesn’t need to be told anymore—he lunges forward, closing his mouth around it, and Bilbo lets out a shrill cry that makes Bard’s cock twitch in Fíli’s hand. 

It does taste _good_. Bilbo’s skin itself has an intoxicating favour, something foreign and delectable, and Bard gives a languid suck. The size is perfect; it fits easily on his tongue. Fíli kisses his cheek, his jaw, his neck, and Thorin and Dwalin keep fucking him. He wraps one arm around Bilbo’s legs, tugging him closer, the other arm still around Fíli. Someone’s biting his shoulder—maybe Dwalin, and then Bilbo’s little fingers are in his hair, and Thorin squeezes his waist, Fíli licking his throat, and Bard’s entire body is in ecstasy, scorching hot. He can’t fathom why he ever doubted this.

Fíli cries out suddenly, and Bard pulls off of Bilbo’s cock, looking around in surprise. Fíli has one hand shoved into his trousers, the one that’s not on Bard’s dick, and his face is flushed, eyes closing as he comes, forming a wet patch over his crotch and shaking. He looks almost unbearably _beautiful_ , and Bard would knock him down and ravish him, if it weren’t for Thorin and Dwalin’s hands and cocks. Bard’s so busy staring that he forgets Bilbo, until he hears the halfling, who joined last and got touched the least, screaming happily. Bard looks around to find Thorin’s mouth locked around Bilbo’s shaft, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks greedily, and Bilbo’s hands have migrated to Thorin’s hair while he humps Thorin’s mouth, his expression awash in bliss. 

He collapses when he’s done. His knees buckle, and Thorin catches him with one arm, helping to sit him down on his ass. White’s trickled into Thorin’s beard, but he doesn’t lick it away. Instead, he lurches towards Bard, and Bard opens his mouth just in time. It’s just as relentless as before, except now they have Bilbo’s seed between them, and Thorin wasn’t lying—it’s absolutely _delicious_. Sweet and smooth, creamy, a little warm and light, like nothing Bard’s ever tasted before. He hungrily licks it out of Thorin’s mouth, and Thorin generously shares, swallowing down none of it so that Bard can scoop out what he likes. He wants to fuck Fíli, but now he also wants another go at the halfling’s cock, if Thorin will allow it; he’ll have to negotiate for that later. 

He comes third, not sure of what pushes him over the edge—Thorin and Dwalin’s cocks, Bilbo’s plump frame resting tiredly against him, Fíli’s still-busy hands. It’s all too much, and Bard’s head explodes, mind blanking, vision blurring, his whole world narrowing out, it just feels good, so _good_ , and he spills himself into Fíli’s hand, while three dwarves lick and suck at his neck and shoulders and face and absolutely _ruin_ him, but he _loves it_ and doesn’t want it to end. 

It does, of course, and coming down is difficult—he’s swaying, trembling, sweating profusely and panting, unsure if he can keep awake. Mercifully, Thorin and Dwalin stop fucking him. They lift him carefully off like he weighs nothing, and they set him aside. He flops down next to Bilbo, then hurriedly lifts up on his knees, because his ass is terribly sore and leaking profusely. Dwalin grunts, “Lightweight.” Thorin grins ravenously at Dwalin, crawling towards him and pushing him down, likely to finish each other off. The stories of Dwarven stamina don’t do them justice. 

Bilbo’s staring blearily at Thorin. Some of the other dwarves are still fucking, others are recovering. Fíli crawls around his uncle to Bard, tucks one golden braid behind his ear, and asks, “Where do you want me?”

Bard’s mouth falls open, and Fíli chuckles, clarifying, “In the boat.”


End file.
